By the time the sun dipped below the rooftops of New Fornia, the dorm kitchen smelled faintly of spices, sizzling oil, and… something burning.
That "something" was Shunya's contribution to dinner.
"Okay, okay, hear me out," he said, waving a wooden spoon like it was a divine artifact. "Back in my world, I survived years on instant ramen, fried eggs, and the occasional tragic attempt at pancakes. Compared to that, this is practically gourmet."
Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's charcoal. You're literally serving us charcoal on a plate."
"It's… caramelized," Shunya corrected proudly. "Gordon Ramsay would call this rustic. A bold, experimental dish."
"Gordon Ramsay would call the fire department," Naomi shot back.
Vikoria, seated at the table with her hands folded politely, tried to hide a laugh. "I don't mind. It's nice that you're trying."
"Thank you, Vikoria!" Shunya beamed, slapping the counter. "Finally, someone with taste. True culinary vision requires suffering."
